


Salvage

by Unread



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bedside Vigils, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:15:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23369854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unread/pseuds/Unread
Summary: Alexander makes it through the Carnivale only a little worse for wear.
Relationships: Thomas Blanky/Dr Alexander McDonald
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25
Collections: The Terror Bingo (2019)





	Salvage

**Author's Note:**

> For my Terror Bingo square 'Alexander McDonald'.

Alexander woke feeling stifled and sweaty and utterly convinced that he was burning alive. It took a moment to realise that he was not, in fact, on fire, and another moment to recollect his surroundings: his own neat, white-washed sick bay aboard _Terror_. He was lying in one of the cots reserved for the ill or injured, with blankets piled on him. It must have been night-time, because all was dark and quiet save for the snores of several other men in the beds, and the groaning of the poor ship. He could commiserate; his head felt like it was being squeezed in an icy vice, and his entire right side was sharp with pain that threatened more with every breath he took. If he didn't know better, he'd have assumed he'd been stuck with a knife. As it was, he very much suspected a cracked rib.  
  
“That’s it, you’re alright,” came a rough, familiar voice. Alexander turned his head to see Thomas sitting upright on a chair right beside his bed and watching him cautiously through the gloom.  
  
“Thomas?” Speaking caused him to break out into an agonising coughing fit, his throat scratchy and scorched. His mouth tasted of smoke, and it made him recollect with sudden and abject horror the events of the Carnivale. Lady Silence, blood covered and stumbling. Doctor Stanley burning like a sacrifice. The crushing stampede of panicked men that had pushed him harder and harder into the unyielding canvas of the pavilion. And then Thomas, fighting his way through the masses and cutting them all free.  
  
“Aye, it’s me. Drink this, now.” Thomas leaned over and held a cup to his lips. Alexander clutched at it and drank like a thirsty child, the water a cooling relief to his throat.  
  
“What happened?” he managed to say, after he had drunk his fill and Thomas had taken the cup away.  
  
Thomas leaned back in his chair and gave him a grim smile. “You went down in the crowd, and I couldn’t get to you until...until it was over. Got a nasty bump on your head and your ribs have seen better days, but Goodsir reckoned if you woke soon, you’d mend up just fine. Been two days.”  
  
“Goodness, that long?” Alexander tentatively reached up to touch the sorest point on his skull, only to find it thoroughly bandaged, no doubt by Goodsir. Indeed, it must have been a nasty bump; try as he might he had no memory of those last moments in the crowd at all. He smiled softly at Thomas. “Well, I’m awake now. Perhaps I can prove Doctor Goodsir right on all counts.”  
  
Thomas was watching him, direct and open, and Alexander was taken aback to see the amount of unvoiced anguish in his expression.  
  
“Come now, Thomas. I’ll have no worry on my account," Alexander said gently.  
  
“It’s too bloody late for that,” Thomas said, and then he reached over and took Alexander’s hand in his own rough-hewn one. He gave a quick look around and then bent his head and kissed the back of Alexander’s hand with burst of fierce emotion. He spoke then, and Alexander could feel the words against his skin, warm and soft. “I thought...I thought I’d lost you. And then you didn’t wake.”  
  
Alexander felt his eyes prick with moisture. “Dearest, I am quite well. Or rather, I will be soon enough.”  
  
“That’s very good news, Doctor McDonald.” Harry Goodsir and a lantern emerged from the gloom, smiling his kind smile at Alexander. Thomas withdrew his hold on Alexander’s hand immediately, reverting to his usual casual impassiveness as he stood to give the good doctor room.  
  
Goodsir hung his lantern from the beams, and then put a gentle hand to Alexander’s forehead. “How do you feel?”  
  
“Oh, my head aches quite badly. Not feverish, though. And I believe my ribs are cracked?”  
  
Goodsir nodded. “Yes. I’ve bound them, but the bindings will have loosened now, so they must be done again. You’ll be uncomfortable for some time while they heal, I’m afraid.”  
  
Alexander nodded and smiled wryly. “Well, I’m certainly not used to being the patient.”  
  
“I’m sorry that I must be the one to tend to you. Doctor Peddie and Doctor Stanley both perished in the fire,” Goodsir said, looking aggrieved.  
  
“No,” Alexander exclaimed in disbelief -- he’d seen Stanley’s fate, but not that of Peddie. He looked to Thomas for confirmation, horrified.  
  
Thomas, who was leaning against the bulkhead watching, nodded and said, “Aye. And six others.”  
  
“Good God,” Alexander said, horrified. He hadn’t realised the enormity of the disaster.  
  
“I’m very glad not to be the only medical man left, Doctor McDonald,” Goodsir said, with feeling. “Very glad indeed.”  
  
“And the injured?” Alexander asked, his mind racing now. He took another look around the sick room and realised that the other resting men there were variously wrapped in bandages. Burned, most likely.  
  
“They are all well in hand. Mr Bridgens from _Erebus_ has been helping me. And as you are also one of my patients, I’m advising that you not concern yourself with anything except your own recovery for now. I’m sure Mr Blanky will support me in this.”  
  
“Aye, he will,” Thomas said. “I’ll make sure he stays put, Doctor.”  
  
Goodsir smiled at Thomas. “I’m not sure that’s necessary just yet. You’ve not had a wink of sleep for two days, and I’d like you to get some now that he’s awake.”  
  
Thomas’s eyes flickered over to Alexander. He seemed a little chastened, and now that Alexander was aware of it, he did indeed look weary. “I’m all right.”  
  
“Thomas,” Alexander said gently. “Doctor Goodsir will look after me. Off with you now.”  
  
Thomas gave him a long, lingering look, and then nodded. “Right.”  
  
“Thomas,” Alexander said again, just as Thomas turned to go. “Do come back when you’re rested, please.”  
  
“Aye, you’ll not be rid of me for long,” he said, grinning a little, and then limped out of the room.  
  
“You have a way with him,” Goodsir commented after a moment. He did not look Alexander in the eye as he spoke, as if he knew more than he said. “He sat at your side all this time and I could not budge him. I’ve not seen him be so loyal to anyone save for the Captain.”  
  
“He has a way with me, I think,” Alexander said, smiling. He could not bring himself to worry if Goodsir suspected anything -- his demeanour did not seem to be accusatory, if it could ever be. “And I am ever grateful for it.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](https://lookslikeaquentinblakedrawing.tumblr.com/) :)


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